


Polyester Plans

by Morgyrus



Category: Petpet Park
Genre: (mild) Exhibitionism, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Skippable Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 16:51:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgyrus/pseuds/Morgyrus
Summary: Flerilda's fond of her best friend Ella, but Ella's decided to disappear from her life for no apparent reason. To make matters worse, the creepy Mr. Grimsby keeps showing up to her place of business. Will this aspiring fashion designer find love and financial success, or will she be scorned like last year's fads?





	1. Fabric

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to my old Petpet Park pal! Surprise!  
> I don't care how long the Park's been closed, Flerella needed to happen. D:

            Flerilda had just gotten back from the Park Station with midsummer’s shipment of the hottest fabrics. She couldn’t wait to show them to Ella, and design some flowy, dance-appropriate fashions for the end of summer carnival. Just as she was about to pick up her sketchbook, a gothically dressed petpet with fangs and horns approached her. Okay, seriously, who wore a polyester suit in the middle of summer? Wasn’t the guy dying of a heat stroke?

            “Miss Flerilda, Mr. Grimsby has instructed me to give you this.” Oh, right, he was a butler. He was paid to wear a tacky, uncomfortable costume.

            Accepting the envelope, Flerilda gave her most welcoming smile. “Would you like some lemonade, sir?” What was his name again? She hoped she didn’t sound rude, it’s just that she avoided Grimsby whenever possible. He was kind of creepy. Well, in more ways than one.

            “No thank you, ma’am. I’d best return to my post.”

            “Are you sure? Shadow Grove’s not that far from here.” Really, it wasn’t. Why hadn’t Grimsby just come himself? Scratch that, she did _not_ want to see him.

            “Thank you, but no. Have a good day, miss Flerilda.”

            “Well, suit yourself. And a good day to you too.”

            The butler bowed, leaving Fashion Fields. Flerilda glared down at the letter, realizing that she might as well just get this over with. Tearing it with one finely sharpened claw, she revealed some tacky, skeleton-themed stationery. Oh, joy.

            ‘ _Dear Flerilda,_ ’ it read ‘ _I must tell you how ardently_ ’ oh no, no, no, no, no, no no. She tore the letter in half and threw it into the pond. No way was she going to read this. Couldn’t the guy take no for an answer?

            Mood thoroughly soured, Flerilda decided that she deserved a long afternoon of pampering and girl time. Time to go hit up Mirsilla for a haircut and massage. Thank goodness for setting up shop in the fashion district, the park’s spa was literally five steps away from her studio.  

***

            It had been three days since that stupid note when that insipid butler returned. Flerilda knew it was highly unprofessional to pretend to close her place of business in the middle of her hours of operation, but there was _no way_ she was speaking to Grimsby’s hired messenger again. What, was he too much of a coward to see her himself? So, she locked up her stuff and hid outside behind the stage.

            The butler looked around but didn’t loiter. Maybe Flerilda should talk to Winsela about Grimsby… She was the head of internal disputes in Park Pointe Square, but she was also the park’s worst busybody. Any secret Flerilda told her would reach every ear from Celestial City to Zombie Marsh within half an hour. Maybe it was best to just ignore the problem and hope it would go away.

***

            It was suppertime when the man of the hour decided to show his face. Flerilda was tidying Wardrobe Wars up for the evening, about to go home for another microwave meal. Grimsby had knocked on the wall, noticing her door was open as per usual. By the time Flerilda noticed, it was too late to hide.

            “Good evening. Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He asked.

            “Yes,” Flerilda answered curtly.

            “So,” Grimsby started. Flerilda turned away, rearranging items on the costume rack. “So what did you think of my proposal?”

            A jacket fell to the floor. “Proposal?” she blanched, refusing to face him. No way in any Universe was she ready for that to happen.

            “What did you think of the proposal?” Grimsby asked again, as if he hadn’t just asked what she thought he did. It was like he was talking about the darned weather.

            “I’m not ready for that kind of commitment,” Flerilda clenched her teeth.

            “Oh. I would’ve thought, well, I guess I was wrong. With your business, I assumed that you were open to taking on contracts.”

            “What the he i’ll is that supposed to mean?” she asked, copying a profanity she had picked up from some visiting teenagers.

            “Your line of work,” as if that was supposed to clarify anything.

            She stared him up and down, barely holding back an accusatory ‘are you calling me a prostitute?’ “The answer is no, Grimsby.”

            He looked confused, off-put, and genuinely saddened. “Oh. I’m sorry for the trouble, Flerilda. I hope that I can work with you another time.”

            Flerilda forced a smile that felt more like a ravenous tiger’s grimace. “I’m sure that won’t be happening.”

***

            Thank goodness Flerilda didn’t see him for a month after that. She’d needed the time to work on her fashion designs. She’d barely chiseled out time in her schedule for lunch with Ella as it was. Their mutual schedules had been so busy lately that their hangouts kept getting cancelled. Just as she was about to leave, a letter arrived under her door. Oh no, not _this_ again.

            It was on pretty, light purple paper that smelled faintly of grass and lilac. “Flerilda, can’t make it to lunch. Have urgent business. Love, Ella,” it read, with her statement swirls and the heart shaped curve at the end of her signature.

            Flerilda shrugged. She understood how many things could come up, being an independent contractor and small business owner. They would just have to catch up another time, that was all.

 ***

            What was concerning wasn’t when Flerilda’s best friend wasn’t home for the third time that she stopped by, it was when she stopped returning her notes. What had happened? This was not like Ella. In the very least, she always returned messages. Plus, she had never missed their Friday evening hangouts before, even if it was just a movie at one of their houses.

            She was dying to know if Ella had been selected to perform at the end-of-summer carnival. The Noil was one of the best dancers in the park, sure, but that didn’t mean she’d get picked. Performing in the Summer Carnival Showcase was a great way to gain publicity, but first you had to pass three rounds of pre-judging. Half the park tried to enter, probably because the crowd-favorite won a hefty sum of park points. Ella could really use them. Flerilda knew rent in the Pawvillion had been steadily going up. Hopefully Ella was okay.


	2. Crushed Velvet in the Sand

            Finally it was the huge summer carnival. Flerilda had finished her designs – though it just wasn’t the same without Ella to model them. Sure, it was very easy to find fashion obsessed teenage Kassegats and Pinixy to pose for her, but they just weren’t Ella. Flexible, graceful, oh-so-elegant and always, always punctual Ella. She was such a sweet girl, and Flerilda felt really weird not having her best friend around to share her successes with. Yeah, she had a lot of other acquaintances and coworkers, but they just weren’t people she could share everything with.

            Thankfully one of those models was a chataholic. Junie_Megan was a Shimmering Hearts coloured Kassegat who happened to be good at organizing (and talking people’s ears off). This wasn’t Flerilda’s first year vending at the carnival, no-siree. Last year she’d been so excited that she forgot an entire trunk of shoes back in Fashion Fields. It was then that Flerilda decided she needed an assistant, and the aforementioned chataholic was willing to work for free.

            “Is something on your mind?” Megan asked.

            Flerilda didn’t want to say anything, but… “Yeah. It’s my friend. Ella, you know, the girl who runs Petpet Boogie, that independent dance studio in the Pawvillion. She’s been avoiding me lately.”

            Megan nodded in understanding. “Ah. Yeah, I’ve had a lot of friends like that. Is she super busy or something?”

            “That’s what she says, but I don’t believe her.”

            Megan shrugged, helping her set hang up clothes and arrange her booth for the event. “Maybe she is. Is there anything you’ve done to annoy her?”

            “No, not that I can think of.” Flerilda shrugged, done with the conversation.

***

            “Omg, omg, omg!” Megan screeched, dragging Flerilda out of her booth. “It’s Tassyana! It’s Tassyana! The Kassegat in the magazines!”

            It was true, the park’s trendiest fashion icon, born and raised in Enchantville was on stage. She was speaking into a microphone. “Hello, Petpets! Hope you’ve had a great summer! I’m this year’s surprise announcer of the Petpet Park Summer Carnival Showcase. I’ll be guiding you through what’s _in_. So stick around,” she grinned, white fangs glistening like diamonds in the sun.

            “Omg omg I wonder if I can get her autograph,” Megan squealed, ditching Flerilda in the crowd. Well, if the Kassegat made a scene at least it would draw attention to Flerilda’s fashion designs, right?

            She blinked, rubbing her eyes. Onstage – no – it couldn’t be. Was it Grimsby? No, it was Ella. It was Ella, beautiful, brilliant Ella, with her orange creamsicle hair and purple mountains majesty eyes, but she was dressed HIDEOUSLY. The girl had on this ugly, ugly, ugly purple green gothic twisting vines outfit that didn’t go with her sense of style _at all_. She was taking beautiful, graceful, flowing steps while dressed like a dead, thorny rosebush. _Why_?

            That’s when she heard the violin. Grimsby’s butler was playing the most beautiful, haunting melody in the world up onstage behind Ella. It was like a ghostly serenade of life and death – but those costumes. They were the most hideous, out-of-place disaster that ruined the entire performance, in her opinion.

            And from the looks of it, Tassyana agreed. The celebrity was standing at the corner of the stage, cringing at the hideous velvet calamity. Oh no, oh no, oh no. She was going to answer interviews about her appearance here – what if she said that Petpet Park had no fashion? That there wasn’t any talent here and that everyone dressed tackily? Oh no…

            And if matters couldn’t get any worse, Grimsby appeared right next to Flerilda. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered.

            Stupid, gross, icky creep. “What have you done with Ella?”

            He was looking at Flerilda as if she had turned into a human. “What do you mean?”

            “She’s been ‘busy’ for two whole months, ignoring me, and is dressed like a walking – you. Like you.” ‘ _Don’t call him a corpse to his face_.’

            “Oh, you mean the dance?” Flerilda responded with a glare, urging Grimsby to continue. “Aren’t you happy for her?”

            “Of course I am,” she spat, though it did not sound at all like she was.

            “She needed money for the entry fee. It costs fifteen hundred park points to submit your talent to the exposition. She was so embarrassed, sweet little thing. She asked me for a loan of money to enter. I told her I’d give it to her for free – I love to see dance and art – but she refused.”

            “That sounds just like her,” Flerilda sighed. Why hadn’t she just asked her for the money?

            “Well, so I told her, ‘hey, I think Willkins – you know him, he’s my butler – wanted to enter his music, but he’s too shy to stand up onstage by himself. - Don’t you love his singing, Flerilda? - And she was so excited then and said yes.”

            “Just like Ella, forgets money the minute she thinks she can make someone smile.” Silly, goodhearted girl, she’d lost so many park points that way. It was no wonder she was in financial trouble.

            “I wrote you and asked if you’d want to help with costumes, but you said no.” Grimsby looked away, a bit embarrassed. “So I lent them stuff from my grandparents.”

            Well, that explained a lot. “Wait, hold on a minute – costumes? You what to me?”

            “Wrote.” He answered.

            “What? I don’t remember that.”

            “I wrote to you. Remember, the letter Willkins delivered?”

            “No. That was _not_ what that letter said.”

            Grimsby furrowed his brow. Digging around into his coat, he pulled out another piece of that awful stationery. “I have a copy, if you’d like to read it.”

            That was very, very odd, but Flerilda nodded her assent anyway. He handed it to her, “I always keep copies of business propositions.”

            It read: ‘Dear Flerilda, I must tell you how ardently I admire your fashion designs. You are the most talented seamstress that I know, and I would love it if we could collaborate on a project together. My butler Willkins, and your friend Ella are interested in submitting a performance piece to the Summer Carnival Showcase. Would you be interested in designing costumes for us? Salary is open to negotiation. – Mr. Grimsby’

            Flerilda couldn’t believe what she read. “Seriously?”

            “Your response… didn’t seem like you, Flerilda.” He stated, delicately.

            “No, I suppose it wasn’t. I didn’t understand the contents of the letter,” she admitted.

            “Ella was very disappointed.”

            Flerilda narrowed her eyes. “Do you know why she’s been avoiding me?”

            “Yes, I’m afraid. She thinks you don’t want to work with her.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Flerilda insisted. “Why would she ever think that?”

            “I think that’s something you should bring up with her,” he stated. “I’ll take you backstage, I’ve got a pass as their manager.”

            “Alright.”

***

            Ella slipped offstage to the sounds of “encore” and “bravissimo”, sweating from head to toe. The summer sun was so hot, and the thick, dark fabrics she worse clung to her skin, trapping in the heat even more. She just had to get back to the makeshift dressing room, then she could sit in the shade and grab some water.

            What she didn’t expect was the beautiful, orange-haired Eizzel hovering at the door of the green room. “Flerilda!” she cried, yanking her into a hug. “Oh, dear, I’m probably getting sweat all over you.”

            “It’s fine. I missed you. You did great out there – I missed you,” Flerilda spluttered.

            “Were you waiting here for me?” Ella pulled away awkwardly.

            “Yes! I didn’t know you were in the show – Grimsby told me.”

            Ella could feel her cheeks heating up – or was it just the sun? So she _was_ waiting here for her. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

            “You’re overheated,” Flerilda stated.

            “I’ll be alright, just let me get some water,” Ella stated calmly.

            “I’ll get it,” Flerilda replied, fetching her a bottle of cool, clear liquid. Ella, instead of sipping it, poured it over her head. The cool droplets clung to her fur, causing her to glisten (and smell like a wet dog). Flerilda went to grab refreshments as Ella slipped into the dressing room. “Just a second, let me change.”


	3. See-Through Lace (Mature/Explicit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ella and Flerilda confess their mutual love for each other.   
> "I've been avoiding you because I love you, Flerilda."  
> "Oh, that makes a lot of sense."  
> "Let's start dating!"   
> They agree to date and are happy because they both thought they had unrequited feelings before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter is explicit/smut. Chapter summary is available if you'd like to skip and pretend this never happened. :)

            Flerilda pulled aside the curtain to enter the dressing room a moment later, carrying an assortment of snacks and cool drinks in her flowy skirt. She’d forgotten to ask ‘Can I come in?’

            Ella squealed, holding her clothes in front of her. “I’m changing.”

            Flerilda didn’t respond immediately – she was trying to figure out what was wrong with this situation. Ella had never cared about being naked around her before. Flerilda was acquainted with the dimensions of every part of her body. She and her measuring tape had seen it all before. “I brought refreshments,” she stated, still not understanding what Ella wanted.

            “Alright. Umm, leave them on the chair, I guess?” she suggested, so Flerilda did. But Flerilda still didn’t leave.

            “I guess you can stay,” Ella stated, turning away. “Umm, I don’t really have anything to change into.”  Oh dear, why was she always so disorganized? She knew she had forgotten something today – she had shown up in her leotard, which was now soaked through with sweat. Why was this not awkward for Flerilda?

            “That’s fine,” her friend smiled. “What do you want to drink? We need to get some liquid in you.”

            “Water is fine,” Ella murmured, a little too quickly. “Uh, do you want to sit down?”

            “No, it’s fine. You should, though,” Flerilda stated. She even went so far as to pull a chair closer to Ella. “Sit down.”

            Ella shivered as her friend’s fingers brushed over her shoulder. “Thanks.” Then she took the water, chugging it down. “Mmm,” it tasted so, so good. Who knew water could taste so _amazing_? Wow, she really must’ve been getting dehydrated.

            “Is there anything else I can get for you?” Flerilda asked.

            “No, I’m fine.” Ella stated. “Uhh, maybe something to change into.”

            “Oh.” Flerilda murmured. “I think I’ve got some clothes back at my booth. How long ‘til you have to be back onstage?”

            “Not until the finale,” she smiled. “I’ve got about an hour and a half, I think?”

            “Is it alright if we wait a bit, then? I’ve missed you. I want to catch up.”

            Ella cringed, inwardly. Her friend had turned down her request to work with her and Grimsby. She probably thought Grimsby and Ella were together. She wasn’t lesbian, she’d never understand what was _really_ going on here. Why, well, why Ella was going out of her way to avoid seeing her face to face… It was all getting to be too much.

            “I’d – I’d rather wait,” Ella managed, but the look she saw on Flerilda’s face broke her heart. “’til later too,” she finished. Flerilda’s smile returned, and it was worth any discomfort she would have to go through.

            “How have you been, Ella?”

            Ella reached for a Veggie Juice Box, “Pretty well, thanks. It’s… I’ve been super busy. I’ve been practicing with Willkins. He composed those songs himself, you know.”

            “I didn’t, that’s amazing.”

            “Yeah, and Grimsby’s been really nice. He’s talked with my creditors and gotten me better rates.” Oh dear, Flerilda looked shocked. She had forgotten how well she had been hiding her debt…

            “That’s… good.” Flerilda replied. She was finally respecting her boundaries for once, not trying so hard to help. That was really nice, actually.

            “Umm, and Grimsby offered to pay me, but I said no, since I’m getting all this free advertisement from performing here.”

            Surprisingly, Flerilda didn’t give her a judgemental glare of ‘why not?’ No, Flerilda reached over and gave her a hug, of all things. “That’s good. I’m glad that you’re becoming so independent.”

            Ella felt Flerilda’s arms brush over her bare chest. Oh _wow_. Not that it hadn’t happened before in fittings – but it felt so intimate now. Would Flerilda get freaked out? Oh no she was going to scare her friend away this wasn’t good.

            Flerilda simply smiled, grabbing a Sparkling Wraithberry Punch to drink and leaning over her reassuringly. “So how are you enjoying the carnival?”

            “I like it a lot.” Ella smiled.

            “I’m glad. It’s gotten a lot better for me since I’ve gotten to see you.”

            Ella squirmed. “That’s so sweet.”

            Flerilda laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re sweet. I’ve missed seeing you – I haven’t seen you in over two months.”

            “I did miss you too,” Ella replied, not looking her best friend in the eyes. She did miss her, more than she would care to admit. She missed her on Friday nights, she missed her over lunch, and on all those afternoons she’d had coffee with Grimsby instead of her. He’d confessed his love of Flerilda to her long ago, and although at first Ella had been incredibly jealous, well… Flerilda wasn’t always the best at communication. According to Flerilda, she’d turned Grimsby down cold three times. According to Grimsby, he was getting mixed signals and not sure if Flerilda was trying to turn him down nicely or just playing hard to get.

            There was a rumor going around that she and Grimsby were dating. Did Flerilda believe it? Did she want her to – maybe it would make things easier, if she did…

            “Has Grimsby hit on you?” Flerilda voiced, casually. Ella wondered if she alone in the world could read her friend, whose forced smile indicated that she was worried. She knew Flerilda loathed Grimsby with writhing passion, feeling her dripping hatred oozing in her cerulean gaze.

            “No, actually.”

            “I find that hard to believe,” Flerilda admitted.

            “He likes you, Flerilda. Not me. I don’t dislike him, but he’s more like, like, like the dad of my girlfriend or something. Not someone I’d ever date.”

            “You have a girlfriend?” Oh. Oh, oh, oh dear. Ella had phrased that badly… Her mouth was hanging open like a fish. ‘ _Will it to move, will it to move, think of something to say…’_

            “I didn’t realize you were, uh, taken,” Flerilda tacked on, making this whole situation worse.

            “No, I’m not. I’m single.” Ella fixed. “I’m too busy to date.” Yeah, as if saying that would make this any better.

            Flerilda was thinking. “You’ve been busy for two months, but you weren’t dating anyone before that, or else you would have told me.”

            “Yeah.”

            “How come you never told me before? If you were dating someone, I mean. Were you keeping her a secret?”

            What was Ella supposed to say to that? “I wasn’t dating anyone.”

            “Was there someone you liked? You should have told me. I’m your best friend, Ella. Why have you been – well, why haven’t you been talking to me? I know you’re busy but it’s not right. You should speak to me. I’m sorry, for being demanding. I should respect your privacy.” She backed away, leaning against a cubicle-style wall, careful not to knock it over. Maybe they should be a little quieter… She wondered how many people were able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

            “You’re right, Flerilda. Thank you for respecting my privacy,” Ella responded. She finished her Veggie Juice Box. “Would you mind going to get me some clothes now? I’d feel more comfortable with something on.”

            Flerilda was almost out the curtain when she turned around, perplexed. “That’s the opposite of what you used to say. When I’d fit you you’d always say something like ‘I just love feeling the air on my skin’,”

            “It makes me feel like part of nature, you know?” Ella added on at the same time, words slipping out from both of their mouths.

            “Do you still want me to go?” Flerilda whispered.

            “No. Stay.”

            Flerilda kneeled next to Ella. She felt her brush her hair, tangled and damp, behind her ear. “You look beautiful, Ella.”

            “You do too.”

            Air tickled the fur of her cupid’s bow, Flerilda suddenly all-too-close. Or not close enough… Ella leaned forwards, pressing her lips against those of her best friend. She felt warm and her lips were lightly chapped, and her tongue tasted just like wraithberry juice.

            “I love you,” Ella whispered. “I’ve loved you for so, so long,”

            Flerilda cut her off with another kiss, wrapping her arms around Ella’s bare shoulders. Oh goodness she was powerful and strong, the independent free spirit that Ella had always known her to be. She moved her hear away for a moment, nipping lightly at the Noil’s ear. “I love you, too.”

            “Flerilda,” she moaned. Could this be a dream? Flerilda was kissing her way down the side of Ella’s face, to her bare shoulders. “Oh Flerilda,” down her chest, lingering, as she laced her fingers through Ella’s, “Flerilda.”

            Ella reached out with her legs, pulling the love of her life closer to her, wrapping them around her shoulders. “I’ve waited so long for this. I didn’t think you’d like me.”

            “I’ve always liked you.”

            “But I thought you were into guys. Guys hit on you all the time,” Ella insisted.

            Flerilda narrowed her brows. “I always turn them down, Ella. Now, enough of this,” she pulled the woman into a kiss again.

            When Ella had to break away for breath, Flerilda was staring between her legs. Flushed and warm and all-too-turned-on, she wondered what Flerilda would do next. The Eizzel nudged her nose down to her warm folds, giving a tentative lick. Ella’s thighs squeezed around her shoulders, encouraging her to continue. Flerilda took the hint, lapping generously.  Her nose rubbed against Ella’s clitoris, causing the dancer to arch her back.

            Flerilda effectively forced her to stay seated with her elbows, continuing her barrage on Ella’s senses. Her velvety nose was heaven against her nerves, and that tongue was like electricity. “Oh goodness,” Ella murmured. This was so, so much. Finally, Flerilda did something she hadn’t before – she licked inside of Ella, pressing into a place no other creature had entered before with her tongue.

            “Flerilda,” Ella mewled, burying her claws into Flerilda’s choppy hair. “Oh please do that again,” and Flerilda did, darting her tongue further and further inside her, nose still making love to her clitoris. It felt so, so good, even better than a foot rub after a day on pointe. Slowly, steadily, she was pushed to the very edge of reality, until Flerilda’s tongue forced sent her on a heavenwards spiral off the cliff of reality and into the oblivion of pleasure.

            As Ella’s muscles clenched and unclenched and she returned to the world of the waking, she dropped like a doll off the side of the chair and into Flerilda’s arms. “Flerilda,” she murmured, “I love you.”

            “I love you too, Ella.” Flerilda brushed at her skin, treasuring her.

            “Mmm,” she whispered, “do you want me to do that to you?”

            “Ella, tonight we’re going to do so, so much more.” She grinned. “But for right now, let me just take care of you.” She kissed her best friend’s cheek.

            “Can I call you my girlfriend?” Ella whispered?

            “Yes, of course! I’d be – I’d be delighted to. You’re my girlfriend,” she tried, loving the possessive ring. “You’re my girlfriend, Ella.”

            “I’m your girlfriend. Flerilda’s girlfriend.”

            “Now let me brush your hair, girlfriend. You’ve got an audience to wow,” she caressed, running a travel comb through Ella’s tangled locks.


	4. Cambric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flerilda and Ella confessed their mutual love, hooray!

            By the time Ella was scheduled to go back onstage, she was as beautiful to the rest of the world as she was in Flerilda’s eyes. She was dressed in a whimsical, see-through white ensemble that mimicked the wind itself, her powerful toes decorated with beaded sandals shining with sea-glass. Even her slightly-damp hair mimicked the saltwater of the sea.

            Junie_Megan had helped make sure that Grimsby and Willkins were presentable, too, making some last-minute sewing adjustments to make sure that their ensembles fit correctly. She couldn’t help but think that Grimsby actually looked rather handsome when he was dressed in sea-breeze stripes, instead of looking like a walking mortuary. She had happily agreed to help Flerilda carry her fashions backstage when she heard it would give her the opportunity to meet Tassyana face-to-face.

            “It’s almost time to go on,” Ella whispered from the wings.

            “I’ll see you soon,” Flerilda replied. “Break a leg.”

            Ella giggled, “don’t say that,” and then pulled her girlfriend into one more kiss. Then, with the grace of a goddess she did _pas de bourrée_ onto the stage, as if it was a normal way to walk, followed by a grinning Willkins with his violin. Grimsby stood beside Flerilda, who tried not to be too irked by his presence.

            “You did a good job,” he whispered.

            “Thank you.”

            “I wish you could’ve done costumes from the start. Ella loves working with you.”

            “Did you know?” she whispered back.

            “Know what?” and it was true, there were multiple subjects she could be asking about.

            “Ella. That she likes me.”

            He covered his mouth with his hand, looking anywhere but at Flerilda. “I’ve suspected it. I did not know that you returned her feelings before, how shall I put this, you confessed your feelings to each other.”

            “Yeah, they didn’t put much effort into the backstage area, did they? I mean, I guess it has to be taken down after the event,” she rambled.

            “I hope that you’re happy with her. She’s happy with you,” Grimsby conceded. Flerilda hated to admit it, but Ella was friends with this man, and he was doing everything in his power to help her be happy. It wouldn’t hurt for them to be on amicable terms.

            “Thank you. I hope that you find someone someday, too.”

***

            “So, Ella, how long did it take you to choreograph your dance?” Tassyana inquired.

            “Oh, well, first I had to hear the music. I listened to it for hours at a time, breathing it, absorbing its essence. The choreography wasn’t that hard, once I knew the music, my steps were an extension of it.” She answered modestly, trying to deflect attention onto Willkins.

            “It’s such ethereal music, when I heard it, and seeing your dance, it was like you were performing air itself.” Tassyana mused. Ella was touched. Offstage, Flerilda could tell that she was faking her interest, hamming up her compliments for the audience.

            “But those costumes, they didn’t go with your dance at all,” she conceded, sticking her nose in the air.

            Ella opened her mouth, replying without thought. “To a disinterested eye, that may appear to be the case; but to someone who lives and breathes dance, the costume is part of the performance itself. At first I thought ‘oh, these are heavy and macabre’, but when I put mine on, I realized how it made me feel. I felt sad, heavy, like these are the clothes of the dead. They are, the people who wore them originally are dead, and I feel that it’s a vital part of our performance. You can’t have death without life, and so I feel that the juxtaposition of these two elements shows the deeper meaning of our performance.”

            The audience oo’ed and awed. Some had relatives in Founder’s Cemetery, after all, but it was the zombie petpets that were the most touched.

            “You’re wearing clothes from dead people?” Tassyana cringed.

            “Yes, we were.” Ella reminded her. “Now we’re wearing designs by my girlfriend, Flerilda.” She ran backstage, pulling the woman out onto stage.

            Flerilda waved to the audience as Tassyana stood there awkwardly. Junie_Megan appeared from behind them. “Am I to understand that our very own Ella of Petpet Boogie and Flerilda of Wardrobe Wars are dating?”

            The audience erupted into whispers, cheers, shouts, screams, and other expressions of animation and surprise. Well, here was one way to ramp-up business. Flerilda and Ella’s names would be on everyone’s lips for the near future.

            Thinking quickly, Junie_Megan added on as soon as she felt she could be heard over the shrill of the crowd. “You know, it was Mr. Grimsby who first suggested they’d be cute together,” she trilled, obligating the man to join them onstage. Surely, this perceived selflessness would get him loads of attention from the ladies.

            The audience erupted into conversation again. Everyone onstage kept smiling, though in truth Flerilda couldn’t wait for all of this to be over. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to be at home on the couch, watching a movie with her best friend’s head on her lap.

            Tassyana moved on to the next performers, questioning and complimenting everyone who had performed that day in turn. She had toned down her haughtiness now that she was no longer the crowd favourite.

            After at least another twenty minutes of the various performers being forced to stand onstage, smiling, everyone was as relieved as Tassyana when she finally announced “Alright, audience! You received a ballot with your admission-wristband. Check the box for which performance was your favourite and turn it in at the info booth by 8pm tonight. The winner will be announced at the fireworks show!”

            Finally, Tassyana’s obligations were complete and she exited the stage in a rush. Megan scrambled after her, muttering something about “autograph”.

            Grimsby smiled “It looks like you two are free to go enjoy the carnival and your first date.”

            Flerilda shrieked. “The booth! No one’s watching my booth. Oh dear, what if stuff’s been stolen?!”

            “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it, Flerilda. Go have a good time, and you too, Willkins. It’s your day off.” Grimsby waved, taking his leave.

            Wilkins leaned in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you two! I’ll see you both at the fireworks show,” before exiting stage with the other contestants.

            It was just Flerilda and Ella left alone now. “What do you want to do?” Ella asked, reaching out to hold onto her girlfriend’s hand, “Girlfriend?”

            Flerilda kissed her on the cheek, earning a whistle from a passerby. “Well, you do still owe me that lunch date.”


End file.
